In Love and War
by Ari Munami
Summary: The war is raging. The Order is losing. But desperate measures lead to something wholly unexpected. Chapter 3: Harry comes to a decision, and contact is made...
1. Prologue

Chapter 1: In Love and War.  
  
A/N: My new D/H story. Completely and utterly different from Seamus is Seamus... this is a serious, angsty and hopefully dramatic story. But I hope you like it!  
  
PROLOGUE.  
  
***  
  
It is Harry Potter's Sixth Year. Open warfare has started, is still happening, and there is no sign of any end.  
  
The Light Side is not winning.  
  
Many things have happened in the two years since Harry Potter witnessed the rebirth of the Dark Lord. More, many more have died. Albus Dumbledore, convinced that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had indeed returned, rallied his own supporters secretly and reformed the Order of the Phoenix. Their plan was to stop Voldemort before his hold on the magical community became too great.  
  
They failed.  
  
Meanwhile Fudge, frightened of mass panic, played down the concern that there was any threat at all. Some believed him. Others did not. But soon his lies were no good to anyone. Fudge was killed in a Dark raid at the Ministry, and it was finally, officially admitted that Voldemort had indeed returned.  
  
A power struggle within the Ministry soon began in the attempt to find a new leader. Albus Dumbledore was wanted by many; but a witch by the name of Infina Worren stepped into the breach. Known for her hard hitting, sometimes brutal methods, she earned much support from those frightened and wanting a no-nonsense approach to defeating Voldemort. Others were nervous about this outcome- Infina didn't exactly have a sterling reputation. In the end, a compromise was reached; the Ministry and the now not-so-secret Phoenix Order were merged, with Dumbledore and Worren in dual control. This Order's only concern was to defeat Voldemort.  
  
Infina had always been an ambitious woman. And although not a Dark Arts supporter, she was not about to let the war stand in the way of her goals. She was soon manipulating the Order, and before a year had passed, had the majority of its members under her thumb. Although some stayed loyal to Dumbledore, he himself was in no position to fight. Although nobody would admit it openly, Albus Dumbledore was very old; old and weakened. He was fast becoming a powerless figurehead in an internally controlled Order.  
  
Infina had no problem implementing questionable methods in order to get results. Nobody really complained. Voldemort was a very real, very frightening enemy. And the Light side was not winning, was not even close to doing so.  
  
One night in early November, in his Sixth Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Draco Malfoy was taken from forcibly from his bed. A heavy sleeping charm was cast on his dorm-mates. Roughly an hour later, he was returned. A very powerful memory spell had been placed on him. It was like nothing had happened at all.  
  
But, of course, it *had.*  
  
***  
  
"The entire incident was ridiculous! You cannot order such a thing, Worren, without informing the Council first! I, for one, will simply not allow it!" Minerva McGonagall was visibly furious. She was standing up from her place at the table, cheeks pink and hands balled up into fists.  
  
Infina looked dismissively at her. "We have no time to discuss every detail of all that we do here," she answered. "If we did we would never get anywhere at all."  
  
"That doesn't excuse-" began Minerva.  
  
"The information we got out of him excuses everything," answered Infina coldly. "His memory was wiped of the incident afterwards. He will be of no threat to our current operations."  
  
"That's not the point!" snapped Minerva. "The boy is a student here. He is under our protection. You cannot simply kidnap him from his bed-"  
  
"He was returned soon afterwards," drawled Infina. "And in any case, he does not deserve protection. His father is a Death Eater- a high-ranking one, and, though he's yet to take the Mark, I doubt that he is much better. I need not remind you, Minerva, of what is at stake. He is no loss either way. And he was not lost."  
  
Minerva, sensing that there was absolutely no point in arguing with the cool, ramrod figure of their leader, sat down slowly, biting her tongue.  
  
"It was hardly ethical, Infina," ventured Arabella Figg. Then she sighed. "But what done is done, I suppose. I don't doubt that is the tables were reversed... however, it makes no difference now. Will you tell us what was got out of the boy?"  
  
Infina gave everyone a lightning-sharp smile- if it could be called a smile. "I'm extraordinarily glad you asked that question, Arabella," she said. "The results were... surprising, to say the very least..."  
  
***  
  
Hmmm. Very mysterious. Please review if you have time! Thanks! 


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: In Love and War.  
  
Minerva McGonagall could not quite believe that it had come to this.  
  
She could understand that the Light was beginning to become desperate. She also understood that, despite the best intentions in the world, despite the fact that they were meant to set an example (and not only to the Wizarding world, but their enemies as well) that of course some corners might have to be cut.  
  
But knowing this, accepting this over a wide spectrum, was very different to what it was like when faced with the reality of the situation. Could they all be so cold-blooded as to really do this? It was hard enough on everyone that there were several former Death Eaters in their ranks. But at least they had *chosen* the Mark, before regretting their decision. It was very different to what Infina was suggesting- no, *telling* them- what they were going to do with Harry Potter. And Harry was 16, *16,* and such a sweet young man, really. She was his Head of House, she was meant to be looking after him, keeping him as best she could from all of this, and not sending him into the middle of it. She literally felt sick. But for some reason she was keeping her protestations to a minimum. So was most of the Order, it seemed. They all looked uncomfortable, very unhappy with the idea, but they were not really speaking up against it.  
  
Sirius Black, however, was absolutely furious. Although a member of the Order, and known generally to be innocent of the crimes he had been convicted of, Peter Pettigrew was still at large and so he had not been officially cleared. He had now entered into a terrible screaming match with Worren. Well, he was screaming, at least. Infina looked just as cold and calm as she usually did.  
  
"You're not asking him, Worren!" he yelled. "Harry's not getting mixed up in any more of this! I can't even believe you would even think it! Harry's 16! He's still a *child!* I was appointed his guardian if anything should happen to Lily and James- and I'm telling you right here and now that you're not mentioning *one word* of this to Harry- do you hear me?!"  
  
"Potter is over the age of consent, Black," answered Worren, as icily as ever. "It is therefore his choice who he enters into sexual relations with. And as for your second objection, may I just remind you that you lost any say over the matter when you were convicted of mass murder. You have no legal jurisdiction over the situation whatsoever."  
  
"You're talking about using my *godson* as a *whore*!" hissed Sirius dangerously. He quickly turned and looked at the Headmaster, saying pleadingly, "you won't allow this, Albus- you won't, will you? Say something!"  
  
"Albus and I have already talked about it, Black," put in Infina swiftly. "And yes, it's not pleasant, we'd rather it was another way- but we have to face reality. This is all we have."  
  
Dumbledore spoke up then, tiredly: "there's no harm in asking Harry, Sirius. He can always say no."  
  
"But you *know* that he won't!" shouted Sirius again. His banged his fists on the tabletop. "You *know* how he guilty he feels about it all, how he'll want to help in any way that he can..." here he broke off, and glared around the room. "And you, all of you- just sitting there! This isn't right! Can't you see that?? How can you just sit there calmly and let this- this *harpy* get away with it?!"  
  
Most of the Order shifted uncomfortably in their seats. A few spoke up, albeit softly, murmuring how it didn't really seem fair to ask the boy. But they soon fell silent when there was a hesitant knocking on the door.  
  
Harry Potter had arrived.  
  
***  
  
Harry didn't know why he had been called to this Order meeting.  
  
He hadn't had any dreams of Voldemort's plans that week, which he was eternally grateful for. Even though there was a continual dull throb in his temple, he hadn't been waking up screaming the dorm down these last few nights. As Voldemort gained even more support over the last year, as well as speeding up all his plans, he was thankful to have even a few night's peace.  
  
Harry was an unofficial member of the Order. Although his information was very useful to operations, he was only sixteen and still at school. Sometimes he was let in on some of the Light side's plans, but for the most part he was not let into the operations. It was safer that way, for everyone concerned. So since he had nothing to report, there was no real reason why he should be there.  
  
A few seconds after knocking on the door to the Order Chamber, it swung open to admit him. Harry entered slowly and was disconcerted and slightly embarrassed to find the entire Order staring straight at him.  
  
He looked round quickly, and decided immediately that something was... off. Everyone was there, everyone was accounted for; it was the expressions on their faces which struck him as- odd. Some were looking a bit- *ashamed* somehow; a few seemed embarrassed, and several, he noticed, were looking him up and down, as if searching for something. His eyes slid nervously around the room, to Professor McGonagall, who didn't look quite well, onto Professor Dumbledore, who looked as tired as always, but managed a twinkle in his direction, and finally to Sirius. Then the tentative smile on Harry's face instantly died, because Sirius looked- incredibly angry. Furious, even.  
  
"Ah, Mr Potter," someone said, and Harry jumped slightly. He turned around to stare into the unyielding face of Infina Worren. Her voice had echoed unusually loudly around the completely silent room. Harry wasn't really sure what he thought about Miss Worren; he knew she wasn't the nicest person in the world, but he kept telling himself that perhaps 'nice' wasn't quite what they needed at the moment. She was a brilliant strategist, that he knew, and she had saved quite a few lives through her quick-thinking. And Dumbledore had no objection to her sharing control with him, so she couldn't be all bad, could she?  
  
Harry thankfully slid into the empty chair Miss Worren signalled him to. He glanced round the table one more time, still struck by the strange way everyone was acting. Then Worren began to speak, and he turned his attention back to her.  
  
"You're probably wondering why you are here, Mr Potter," Infina said. She gave him a short tight smile, which he supposed was meant to be reassuring. "Well, you won't be kept in the dark any longer. But what I am about to tell you must be kept in the strictest confidence. You are to tell no-one of what I am to tell you, Mr Potter- *no-one.*"  
  
Harry nodded nervously, eyes shooting quickly to Sirius, as if to get some sort of clue from him. He was staring at Harry, eyes shuttered strangely. When he turned back again, Infina gave him another small smile that again did not quite meet her eyes. She continued.  
  
"Two days ago, Draco Malfoy was questioned by me under Veritaserum. As you know, his father is a high-ranking Death Eater, and were hoping he had told Malfoy JR. some of Voldemort's plans."  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows slightly. He didn't like Malfoy- hated him, really- and he was quite sure his entire family was Dark. Still, that course of action seemed slightly- extreme.  
  
"Unfortunately, it seems as if his father has not told him much. We did learn, however, that Draco Malfoy plans to become a Death Eater when he leaves Hogwarts," here her face twisted into an ugly sneer, "and he's to receive the Mark on his eighteenth birthday. But then, Mr Potter- here it gets interesting- we asked him about *you.*"  
  
"Me?" Harry said involuntarily, surprised.  
  
"We were meaning to ask if he knew of any plans for you," Infina said. "He did not. But about you specifically, Mr Potter, he was a veritable well of information. It seems as if Mr Malfoy has rather-" here Infina's lip curled up slightly- "a *crush* on you."  
  
Harry let out a shocked splutter of laughter before the reality of what Worren had just said dawned on him. His stomach seemed to jump to his throat before turning over and plummeting sickeningly down to his feet. He felt his mouth fell open of its own accord at the same time. "A- a CRUSH?!" he squeaked.  
  
Worren did not seem fazed by his reaction. "Yes," she said. "I understand he's been... fixated on you for several months."  
  
Harry wondered vaguely if he was in a terrible, awful dream. The walls of the room *did* seem rather fuzzy. Here was Miss Worren, Co-Head of the Order, telling him calmly that bloody *Draco Malfoy* liked him. Draco Malfoy, Death Eater-in-training, Slytherin, who was *horrible* to him every single day, who tried to get him into trouble all the time, tried to trip him up at every opportunity, hissed insults at him and spat venom in his direction whenever they met. Draco Malfoy, who apparently had a *crush* on him. It really was too terrible to even contemplate.  
  
"But- Miss Worren," Harry said desperately, "he *despises* me. He hates me- I don't mean to say you've got it wrong, but- well, yes I am, actually. You HAVE got it wrong. I don't think the Veritaserum was working properly, or something..."  
  
Infina looked less than pleased. "The thought had crossed my mind, Mr Potter," she said crisply. "I know all about your little... rivalry. I checked the dosage, I checked the serum itself. It was working perfectly."  
  
"But- but- it doesn't make any *sense!*" Harry ground out. He looked desperately around the room, searching for anyone who would agree with him. His stomach turned over unpleasantly again when he saw that nobody would.  
  
"Which brings us on to the real point of this meeting," continued Infina. "Mr Malfoy was wiped of his memory of the incident before being returned to his dorm. He therefore knows nothing of what took place. We wish to use this to our own advantage."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Harry cautiously. She couldn't mean that they wanted him to- no, surely not...  
  
Infina did not beat about the bush. "We wish you to approach Mr Malfoy. We wish you to enter into a relationship with him. Flatter him, lie to him, pretend that you love him if you must. But, ultimately you will be after one thing- information."  
  
Harry choked. "You want me to *sleep* with him??!" he managed to get out. He immediately felt himself turn bright red as he remembered where he was. Everyone knew! There was Snape, and McGonagall, and Sirius, of course. He had a sudden and utterly horrible vision of discussing different seduction techniques with Snape. My god, this was more than mortifying, he thought miserably. He felt himself flush even more. He wanted to disappear into the table.  
  
"No," said Sirius quickly. "No, Harry. You don't have to do-"  
  
"If you must," answered Infina coolly, as if Sirius had not even opened his mouth. "Mr Malfoy let us know that over the coming months he will be told more and more about Voldemort's activities. We would simply use the truth serum on him again, as some have suggested..." here she shot Sirius a swift, sharp look, "but you know that numerous memory charms tend to leave- side effects. These effects would arouse suspicion. However, we believe that Mr Malfoy, as young as he is, will open himself up to a lover almost as easily."  
  
Harry swallowed hard. "But- I *hate* him," he said slowly. "I can't just act- I mean, I wouldn't be able to... I can't act as if I like him!"  
  
"If you say so," said Infina. "I suppose, ultimately, that it is your decision. I can't force you into anything you don't wish to do. I'm telling you that if you do this you will probably save countless lives. If not-"  
  
"Don't listen to her, Harry!" interrupted Sirius forcefully. "Of course you're not going to do it. I've already told her as much- don't let her try and make you feel guilty, try to trick you into something..."  
  
Harry looked up at his godfather then, a determined set to his features. "I'm not a child, Sirius," he said softly, " and I can make my own decisions. And right now- right now I don't know what to decide." He turned to Infina. "I need some time to think about this. I'm sure you understand..."  
  
Infina nodded quickly, and Harry got up slowly from his chair. He did not look at anyone as he went over to the door, put his hand on the handle. He stayed there for several moments, not moving at all, until quite suddenly he turned the doorknob, and pulled the door open.  
  
"Harry..." Sirius called belatedly after him.  
  
But the only answer he received was the faint clicking of the lock.  
  
***  
  
Uh-oh... 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2: In Love and War.  
  
Before we start: big, heartfelt thanks to my friend Sharon, who has read over all the parts so far and has written back brilliant advice amazingly quickly. Thanks Shaz!  
  
And, um... please review? Thanks!  
  
***  
  
Harry stumbled through the doorway of the Order's room, and down the stairs to the narrow corridor below. He felt numb, shocked, and somehow detached from his own body. As well as distinctly queasy.  
  
He took his glasses off, rubbing his hand down his face and breathing in deeply, as he tried to process the information he had just received.  
  
He could not quite believe what he had just been told. Draco Malfoy liked him. *Fancied* him. He didn't understand it; he just *couldn't*. Harry knew he didn't get everything quite right, but he did think of himself as a rather observant person. How the hell had he missed the way Malfoy felt about him?  
  
It was always the same between the two of them, ever since their very first meeting in Diagon Alley. Malfoy was a stuck-up and prejudiced little pure- blood who made no attempt to hide the fact. He had got even worse over the years. Up until the fourth year, Harry would have been happy to just ignore the other boy, if he didn't bother him. But Malfoy always had to turn up, insulting him or his friends at every opportunity, showing just what a bastard he was.  
  
After their fourth year, things changed somewhat. Before Voldemort's resurrection, Harry had thought of Malfoy with dislike, but it was also coupled with indifference. But after Cedric's death, after what Malfoy said to him on the train... he had felt a burning swoop of anger whenever he had looked at the other boy. Although this had lessened over the following two years, it was still there. But now, it seemed, Malfoy *liked* him. And, for the greater good, he would have to pretend to like him back.  
  
Because, of course, he was going to do it. There wasn't really any question. Harry didn't think of himself as particularly special; but he knew that most of the wizarding world did. He knew how many had died trying to protect him, how many Voldemort had killed because of him. He saw what happened every night. And he was expected to stay at Hogwarts, pretend there was nothing going on outside of its walls, concentrating on Quidditch and his schoolwork like a normal 16-year-old wizard. He knew this was what everyone, particularly Sirius, wanted. Did they really think he could do so? It wasn't a game, however much they tried to present is as such. Although everyone tried to put a happy, carefree front, always smiling brightly, Harry could see the strained and worried look that shadowed their eyes. Nobody seemed to be truly happy anymore, not even the innocent little First years, who used to look at Hogwarts with complete wonder. There was always someone who had lost a parent, a relative, or a friend. It didn't even shock anyone anymore like it had the first few months of the war. Now everyone simply breathed a sigh of relief when the black-lined parchment that appeared over the breakfast table wasn't dropped on their own plate. They instead watched with bleakness, bordering on indifference, as someone else received the life-altering news. Did they all really think that he was as indifferent? He couldn't be.  
  
Miss Worren hadn't glossed over what he would have to do. He had to respect her for that. He would have to become Draco Malfoy's lover. Although he had processed this, his mind balked at the actual details of what this entailed. God, it made him feel nauseous to even think about it. Harry had never been with a boy before, hadn't even thought about it really. He was only thankful that he wasn't a virgin. God, but that would have been mortifyingly embarrassing. He had had a Muggle girlfriend the summer before, and he had wholeheartedly turned himself over to her like any teenaged boy would. At least he wasn't *completely* inexperienced. God, he would still have to- oh *GOD*.  
  
Several hours later, he slowly made his way back to the Order chamber. He decided enough time had passed so that Sirius would think he had thought about it carefully, although in reality he had already made up his mind before he had even left the meeting. Perhaps it might soothe him slightly.  
  
He knew Miss Worren would sort out everything for him. Tell him what to say, set up a meeting with Malfoy- he supposed he would have to call him *Draco* now- and make sure they could meet alone.  
  
All he would have to do was lie convincingly enough so that Malfoy believed that it was all real.  
  
He wasn't sure he could do it.  
  
***  
  
Draco Malfoy was sitting in the classroom, on top of one of the desks. He was staring pensively out of the window, eyes obviously intent on something else. Harry took him in slowly, the sickening feeling coming back over him as he realised that this- this was the boy he would have to lie to, to kiss- to- to do things with. He stomach took a painful swoop and he quickly pushed his glasses up his nose, a nervous gesture. Harry took in Malfoy's white-blonde hair, smoothed back off his face, to his haughty profile, the cold silver chain he wore around his throat, and the elegant line of his neck that seemed to follow down to his arms, and, finally, his long, pale fingers. Harry realised he had never had the opportunity to look at Malfoy like this, when he wasn't with his friends, or playing him in Quidditch, where his features would be screwed up into a hateful scowl. He also noticed now that Malfoy wasn't as completely pristine as he'd once thought. There were fine lines around Malfoy's mouth and on his forehead that should not have been there at seventeen. He then realised with a jolt that it was very likely that if he studied his own face as intently, he would find matching ones. At this revelation, his foot scraped slightly against the floor. Malfoy looked up. The moment was broken.  
  
As soon as he saw Harry, Malfoy's face immediately transformed into his usual hateful grimace.  
  
"Potter!" He spat out, as if he wanted the name off his lips as quickly as possible. "What are *you* doing here?"  
  
Harry wavered for several seconds, before realising that his mouth was half- open. He quickly shut it, and again pushed his glasses back up his nose. He still could not quite believe the information he had been given. If it wasn't for Worren's complete assurances...  
  
"Malfoy..." he began. "I- I wanted to talk to you." He felt his face flush when Malfoy continued to sneer at him.  
  
Malfoy stood up, in one smooth motion. It was just like him, Harry thought resentfully. He couldn't even move without trying to make it completely perfect. Although Harry didn't like to admit it, Malfoy had always secretly made him feel like this; as if he was somehow beneath him.  
  
"*Talk* to me, Potter?" Malfoy spat out at him. "Talk? Are you mad? And what, pray tell, does the great Harry Potter need to talk to *me* about? Do you think I *care* what you've got to say?"  
  
Harry screwed up his courage. "Yes," he said bluntly. He felt a surge of triumph when Malfoy's expression wavered for a moment, and he quickly soldiered on. "I think- I know you've got- a *thing* for me, Malfoy. That's what I wanted to talk about."  
  
Harry was very surprised when Malfoy hardly reacted to this statement at all. He recovered from it extraordinarily quickly; Harry only saw his expression change ever-so-slightly because he was looking for it. Something... *strange* also flickered in Malfoy's eyes. He soon gave a disparaging laugh, but it was overtly hollow even to Harry's own ears.  
  
"A *thing* Potter?" he sneered. "What, you think I fancy you, or something? *You?* I do believe that someone here's been delving a little too deeply into their own fantasy world, don't you?"  
  
"I know it's true, Malfoy," Harry replied, feeling his face heat up even more. Now came the hardest part of all. "And I- I wanted to tell you- that I feel the same way. Um."  
  
The reaction to these words came almost immediately. In a second Malfoy's face had darkened into a pained, shadowed look that Harry could not recognise. Then Malfoy was approaching him, his face turned once again into an absolutely *furious* scowl, more furious, so much more angry than Harry had ever seen it before. Malfoy's hands came up then, taking Harry's arms into a painful, tight grip.  
  
"What do think you're doing?" Malfoy absolutely *hissed* at him. "What the *fuck* do you think you're doing?"  
  
Harry couldn't seem to answer him; he just stood there, frozen, staring into Malfoy's angled, pale face. It seemed thinner and paler now, taught with anger.  
  
"I- I'm sorry," he managed after a minute.  
  
Malfoy made a sound- disgusted, angry, something that Harry couldn't quite distinguish- before loosening his hold on him. Harry silently breathed a sigh of relief; the grip had been numbingly painful.  
  
"Is this a joke, Potter?" Malfoy asked, his voice gaining back some of its usual sneer. "Did someone put you up to this..."  
  
"N-no," Harry said quickly, discreetly rubbing his right arm where Malfoy had held it particularly hard. He searched his brain for some of the winning lines Miss Worren had suggested he say. "I- just want to get to know you better, that's all."  
  
Malfoy stared at him, and Harry shifted uncomfortably. He forced himself to look into the other boy's eyes; and saw a strange, darkened expression there, one he had seen flashes of before in the conversation. Malfoy looked- angry? But also... somehow hurt? Then Malfoy blinked, and it was gone.  
  
Malfoy moved away from Harry, lengthening the distance between them in more ways than one. His usual attitude towards him- one that Harry could at least understand- came back in full force.  
  
"Just get out of here, Potter," he spat. "I don't want to talk about this again."  
  
An uncomfortable, heavy feeling had descended on Harry's stomach. He had been rejected, and he wasn't precisely sure why this should matter. He didn't like Malfoy, he hadn't wanted the other boy to like him either. But- he had let the Order down. They had all been counting on him. And also- he had been rejected too many times in his life. Somehow- he hadn't thought he would have to add this one to the list. And he didn't understand- either Malfoy's attitude towards him, or the shadows in his eyes. Harry suddenly had an insane urge to cry, for absolutely no reason at all.  
  
Harry took a step backwards. Then another. Malfoy didn't move, wouldn't look at him. Harry found the smooth, ribbed surface of the doorframe in his hand, and paused once more.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said again.  
  
Malfoy was still half-turned away from him. At Harry's words, he gave a strange sort of half-sigh.  
  
"Are you?" he said softly.  
  
Harry had been staring at the floor, but he looked up, and jumped slightly to find that Malfoy was pinning him with a searching stare.  
  
"Yes," he answered. He *was* sorry; just not for what Malfoy thought. "I really am."  
  
At these words, Malfoy moved over to him. Harry faltered at this; he tried to back away. But, since he was already at the door, he had nowhere to go. He stiffened as Malfoy came up close to him- *really* close- oh *god*... he had steeled himself for this, but it was *completely* different in reality. He felt the wall at his back, felt it smooth under his spread palms. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth slightly when he felt Malfoy's breath on his face- it was everything he could do not to flinch and duck away from the unwanted attention. It felt like- like Malfoy was *studying* him. He made himself open his eyes, and found himself looking straight into Malfoy's grey ones. He forced himself not to move.  
  
Malfoy leaned backwards slightly, some sort of dark, sardonic humour apparent on his face.  
  
"I think we can come to some sort of agreement, Potter," he said.  
  
And so Harry was able to go back to Worren and tell her that the meeting had been successful. However, Harry was rather confused. He had thought that he would have the upper hand in the situation; but at the moment he felt as he always did with Malfoy. Unsure, unfamiliar, as if he was floundering around in the dark.  
  
And, as always, he felt a pang of resentment for the other boy.  
  
*** 


End file.
